


Unaccustomed

by theparanoidergosphere



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, SHIELD, SHIELD Academy, SHIELD Academy Era, Silly, scuffed oxfords included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparanoidergosphere/pseuds/theparanoidergosphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz spots fellow teenager Jemma Simmons in his first lecture at SHIELD Academy and has some difficulty mastering the art of communication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unaccustomed

“So we’ve reached the consensus that she is attractive?” 

“Objectively speaking, yes.” 

Fitz hadn’t meant to be listening in on their conversation, but lacking the confidence to pick up a conversation with another student, all of who were significantly older than he, eavesdropping was really his only way to evade complete isolation. Anyway, gossip was a universal appeal, even to brilliant minds, and Fitz glanced around the lecture hall to see to whom the two men sitting in front of him were referring. 

“Objective is a key term here, Richard. She isn’t even legal yet.” 

“God. With a phd in biology?”

“And chemistry.”

“You’d think she was a mutant. It took me six years to finish my dissertation, and I felt like that entire time I hardly ever saw sunlight. I became albino.”

“Don’t be ignorant. Albinism is genetic.” 

“It was a joke, Ron.” 

Fitz had heard rumors that there was another young scientist entering the academy that year. They were both the first to start before adulthood and while initially he had been a little bothered that he’d had to share the spotlight, on this day, his first day of classes, midst crowded halls filled with towers of people, confidence and self-assurance hardwired into their very anatomy, Fitz found himself hoping the rumor was true. 

Apparently, it was. 

He spotted a pair of scuffed oxfords resting in the front row, center aisle. Attached was a small young woman, with her hair pinned back in a barrette and wearing a pastel-blue, collared shirt. She was dressed like a professor, an awkward arrangement considering her stature and youthful face. Her skin looked soft. If the rumors were true, she was his age, but her large, doughy eyes suggested she was at least two years younger. 

But they were right. She was pretty. 

The room fell silent as the professor entered the hall in a brisk and mildly frantic manner, wild curly hair somewhat contained in a messy bun. 

“Sorry I’m late.” The curtness of her tone indicated to Fitz that she probably wasn’t sorry. 

“Welcome to advanced stoichiometry. And to those that are new, welcome to SHIELD academy.”

“Thank you, professor. That’s very kind of you.” 

It was the girl in the oxfords, who obviously wasn’t receptive to the dismissive nature of the professor’s comment. 

The professor flashed her dark eyes questioningly to the front row. 

“I don’t believe that comment was directed at you specifically, Miss … - ”

“Simmons,” the girl answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear sheepishly. 

“Miss Simmons. You look about 14.” 

“I’m almost 17, professor.” 

“Hmm.” 

And that was it. Interaction ceased. The professor turned back to her computer where she had begun to set up her presentation for the lecture, and 16-year-old Jemma Simmons let her hair fall in front of her cheeks to hide their deep red color. 

Fitz was excellent at keeping attention. Excellent. Even in the abnormally fast-paced nature of his first class at SHIELD. Even so, his eyes couldn’t help but sporadically drift to the front row, to the pair of Oxford shoes tapping nervously on the concrete. 

By the time his first lecture had ended, he knew he was not as proficient in chemistry as he had convinced himself. Most of the introductory course material he had covered before SHIELD, but even that he was slower to remember than he would’ve preferred, and he knew it was only going to become worse. 

Jemma Simmons, however, looked chipper as ever as she stepped out of her seat. The grin she had entered class with had returned to her cheeks. Obviously the content of the lecture allowed her to move past the embarrassing initiation of class. She was bubbling with excitement. It lit up her eyes.

Her eyes. He was staring at her eyes.

Which meant eye contact.

Oh god, she’d seen him. She’d seen him. Staring at her from afar like a complete daftie. 

And then she was walking up the aisle between the seats, in his direction, away from the exit. 

Oh dear God.

He was achingly shy as it was, which had made friendships all the more difficult (rare if not completely nonexistent) to obtain. But Jemma Simmons made him particularly flustered. His heart raced and he tried to remember his name.

“Leopold Fitz!” 

Had that come out of his mouth?

No, the voice was too high-pitched for an average male, and lower than the nails-on-a-chalkboard sound that came from Fitzs’ own mouth in situations inducing extreme anxiety. Like this one.

No, the voice was distinctly female.

Instead of risking speech, he nodded stiffly. The unfamiliar insecurities of inferiority seeped into his bloodstream like a bad drug. Non-addictive. Highly toxic. 

He nodded. 

“Oh sorry, have I startled you?” she let out a soft giggle. “I just heard about you when I enrolled. Another boy my age, can you imagine? I was giddy! And both the youngest to ever attend the academy, we are!” 

And there was that grin of hers again. Exposing a warm heart that made him all the more terrified. Fitz attempted to return with a smile, but his muscle memory betrayed him and the result was somewhat closer to a grimace.

“Well,” she said, less chipper. “I’m Jemma. Simmons. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Fitz refused to comment, paralyzed with the fear that whatever words he chose to string together, no matter how carefully, would repulse her. He wasn’t used to anyone matching him in intelligence, let alone someone his age, and even worse, someone pretty and charming. He wasn’t going to destroy his chance at any kind of alliance between the two of them now, when he couldn’t even trust his own body to follow his brain’s commands. 

In the period of silence, Jemma Simmons shifted awkwardly in her oxfords, pulled at the sleeve of her shirt, which was buttoned to the collar. 

“Well, I’ll see you around, then,” she said uncertainly. 

She turned and descended the stairs, passing the professor before exiting the hall. 

Fitz let out a long sigh and slumped back into his seat, watching the last of his lingering classmates chatter about the class, their research, and some place called “the boiler room.” 

To his surprise, advanced stoichiometry wasn’t the greatest challenge of his day, but he was resolved. Just as he did with every other challenge he faced - an error in code, a seemingly inpenetrable physics problem – he would find a way to reach the right result. 

And he was positive the right result was a friendship with Dr. Jemma Simmons.


End file.
